She smiled in her old mother way as she lifted each picture and kissed it in turn. And some day— It could not be long now—time flew so—— “Things are not so bad after all, dear ones,” she whispered as she set them down. “They could not be with any woman who has such lovely children as mine—so much happiness to look forward to.” * * * * * And so were bridged the years between. CHAPTER V The Benton mansion fairly blazed with lights. Everywhere there was suppressed excitement. Even from under the dignity of speckless uniforms and brightly shining buttons, there was evidence that something unusual was in the air. Hurrying back and forth servants inspected minor details. Liveried attendants stationed at the door beside his majesty, the butler, were in readiness to announce the army of guests expected to celebrate the début of the young daughter of the house—Miss Elinor Benton. Sixteen years had passed since Marjorie and Hugh had come to New York to live—years that had brought vaster changes to them both than either would have believed possible. Awaiting the arrival of his guests, Hugh, proud father and man of the world, stood in the center of his elaborately-decorated ballroom and gazed about with satisfaction. The years had dealt more than kindly with Hugh Benton. His appearance told nothing of his forty-four years. There was no trace of gray in his thick dark hair. His love of athletics, and the splendid ministrations of his valet had kept his figure in excellent condition. Now his handsome face wore an expression of self-satisfaction. He might have been taken for his own son’s brother as he stood there waiting. He did not at first see the movement of the trailing vines and flowers that formed curtains to one of the room’s great entrances. Nor, until she spoke and came whirling into the room to drop a deep curtsey before him did he see the girl who had parted those curtains—a girl of such flower-like beauty that she might have been sister to one of the blossoms through which she made her way. She looked at him with eyes that sparkled above delicately flushed cheeks. And Hugh Benton gazed on his débutante daughter with a joy that was greater by far than he had ever contemplated any of his wealth of possessions. “Well, dad!” Elinor Benton exclaimed breathlessly. “How do I look for my first formal introduction into society?” For a moment the father did not speak as he looked at her. He was trying to realize that this gloriously beautiful girl of eighteen, bubbling over with the exuberance and enthusiasm of youth was his daughter. Her hair was the same that Marjorie’s had been when he had married her. It was a mass of spun gold with the sun glittering upon it. Features, complexion, figure—all were flawless, and Hugh’s eyes beamed with pride as he answered tenderly, truly; “You’re as beautiful as an angel, dear.”